These days, Williamsburg draws as much ire as it does hungry visitors. Say what you will about skinny jeans, but the home of the hipster has some of the most exciting new restaurants in New York. At Isa, Taavo Somer (the restaurateur and scene-maker behind Freemans and Peels) has taken a highly personal approach to the space, and, like a teen-ager’s bedroom, it deliberately resists being understood. Some days, the menu is a kooky graphic collage, and until recently the bathroom was a neon-fluorescent hall of triangular mirrors. (Perhaps in response to quizzical attention, it has been toned down.) Geometric forms abound, the furniture looks vaguely Scandinavian—woodsy yet sleek—and the over-all feeling is that of a hippie ski cabin. In one corner, a small succulent potted in a green ceramic mug with an ear for a handle features a button that asks, “Why be normal?”

The food is anything but rustic. The menu lists components only—no sources or even methods of preparation—with the result that expectations are muted. One night, artistically arranged starters of “beet, apple, granola, foie gras” and “tartare, sunchoke, flax soil, crème fraîche” looked ultra-modern, on large, flat plates, as if they had been nicked from a haute-cuisine kitchen. A dish called “calamari, ink, pil pil, dill” elicited another kind of surprise, arriving as a whole squid, completely intact; the flesh was startlingly tender and the ink satisfyingly briny. There are less challenging options: “ham,” “cheese,” and “wings in sticky caramel,” the last being easy to understand and even easier to eat, if a couple of notches too sweet. There are generally only two or three entrées on offer; one night they were duck breast, mackerel, and porridge. “Porridge? For dinner?” a woman asked, of no one in particular. The savory concoction came piping hot, studded with walnuts, radicchio di Treviso, and sharp, salty Gorgonzola; not a spoonful was spared. The mackerel, paired with carrots, yogurt, and egg yolk, could have used more acid but was cooked to perfection. Slivers of rich duck breast and liver were balanced by celeriac and dandelion greens.

Dessert is another juke—instead of sweets and chocolate, there are expositions on taste. Grapefruit curd with mascarpone and a crumble of pistachio and green tea demonstrated the more elegant notes of bitterness, and sunchoke cream with chestnut, black-trumpet mushrooms, and coffee expounded on the sweet-savory spectrum of nuttiness. Diners are often so disarmed by the food that they break the fourth wall to consult with their neighbors. After weighing in on a discussion of ice cubes and exchanging bites, one couple asked another, “Wait, are you having ham for dessert?” Why not? (Open daily for dinner and weekends for brunch. Entrées $16-$33; prix fixe $50.) ♦